


Was & Gone

by orphan_account



Series: The Ampersand Series [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 18,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth was taken that night, but she had survived; well, most of her had survived. It's been a year, maybe two, and she's been making it all on her own — moving, always moving. But no matter how many times she says it to herself "was" and "gone" just aren't compatible with Daryl Dixon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Era y ya no está](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532144) by [Ekhi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekhi/pseuds/Ekhi)



Beth didn't sing anymore - hell, she hardly even talked. She didn't offer her help to strangers, or stop to admire the rare moment of beauty in the ugly remains of what was. Beth didn't do a lot of things anymore. The girl she used to be was a hazy recollection in her mind that seemed to be more fiction than fact these days. How long had it been? A year? Maybe two? She hadn't kept track. The days and nights had begun to blend together until it was difficult to tell them apart, but her body ached with both growth and loss, denoting time and seasons passing.

They said no one could do it on their own, but that's exactly what Beth had been doing. She never stayed in one place too long. Always going. Always searching. Her legs seemed to move of their own volition, much like the walkers. Beth knew there was nothing better out there - had seen her share of the worst - last month she had plunged her knife through the skull of a baby who reminded her so much of Judith she almost hurt. But still, what else was there to do?

She blew through towns, wilderness, and country roads with long stretches of crops on either side. She never bothered to find out exactly where she was. If Beth happened upon a sign, or a map, it never really held her interest much. As a girl she had always wanted to travel - see the world - she had never imagined it would be like this; sweating and running, covered in blood and dirt, skinning rabbits and foraging for berries to eat. Life wasn't a fairytale - there was going to be no happy ending for Beth - a lesson that had taken her far too long learn.

Beth couldn't help but look at her past with disdain. The farm, the walkers, the denial - everyone playing pretend and closing their eyes - hoping if they just kept their faith everything would go back to normal. Then the prison; all the time she had wasted imagining becoming aunt to the baby Glenn and Maggie were bound to have, mapping out a life for her elderly father, and finding happiness behind the security of the fences.

Nothing could keep reality out anymore.

This was the world now. You killed or you were killed. You slept when and where you could, ate whatever was at your disposal, and hoped to God you didn't roll over onto your knife in the middle of the night. Or maybe that was just Beth. You got used to being chased by the living dead, got used to the spray of black blood when you killed them, got used the rotting flesh slipping off their bones and onto you. There was no time for hesitation - and certainly no time to be grossed out. Kill or be killed. Fight or flight. Aim true. Never second guess.

Beth looked out at the treeline, not really seeing anything. She tried not to think of the people that she used to know. They were either dead or gone. Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Michonne, Carl... they were all ghosts. She closed her eyes, willing herself to finally add another name to that list - the name that had brought her both comfort and pain for so long - Daryl.

The fire in front of her crackled while she tried to shut out the sound of his voice telling her to run. _Run, Beth. Run!_ She shouldn't have left him. She dug her nails into her legs trying to ground herself with the pain. But soon the memories started - the hot, suffocating heat of the trunk of the car - she ground her back teeth together so hard her jaw cracked. No. Beth wasn't doing this again. It was over. It had happened. She had survived.

Well, most of her had survived - the parts she had needed, the ones she had never used before. The hard and the mean ones. She gleamed like a cold stone in the night. Beth had left those she loved in the past where they belonged - she had left herself there, too - the girl she was, small and soft and singing silly songs. But Daryl... he never stayed where she left him. She would think of him and say _is_ after a week of telling herself _was._

But still, sometimes she woke up from dreams of hearing herself say, _You're going to be the last man standing - you are_. The first couple of months on her own she had been angry, so angry. _Daryl, you were supposed to be the last man. I'm not strong enough for this. It was supposed to you. It was supposed to be you remembering me. Just another dead girl, but I'm not dead, am I, Daryl? Everyone is gone, and someday I'll be gone too, but not today. Not today, Daryl, do you hear me?_

After putting out the fire, Beth laid down on the hard dirt and looked up to the stars. She used to love staring out at them on the big wooden porch of her old house, but found no solace in them anymore - no higher meaning - no God, or at least none worth praying to. The stars seemed to blink on and off, like her heart. Full and empty. Hurt and strong. _Was_ , she told herself again, trying to sleep.

"Gone," she said softly to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't as if everyone had disappeared at once. For a while after Beth had escaped she attempted to use her paltry tracking skills to try to find Michonne. She could still remember the two men, exactly what they had looked like, standing outside an abandoned hardware store. Beth had kept to the shadows and ducked behind a totaled car, waiting for them to leave, hoping to find some sort of weapon - knowing it was probably useless.

"What a crazy bitch," said the shorter of the two. He adjusted his red baseball cap and kept an eye down the road. Were the two standing guard? It was Beth's best guess. She silently cursed herself, hoping they hadn't already taken everything worth stealing.

"Walking them around like pets," said the other man, laughing harshly. "Biters! Seriously. Who does that?"

Beth's ears had perked up immediately. Her heart said _Michonne_ , but she knew it could be any of the women, really. Every member of the group adopted the somewhat unsavory protection method at one time or another. While hard to stomach, it had gotten them out of some pretty sticky situations and they all had Michonne to thank for it.

"Did you see her take them out? Must've been at least ten of them. That sword, man!" the guy groaned dramatically. "If she wasn't scarier than your mom I would've taken it from her."

Beth almost laughed. Definitely Michonne! Immediately she wanted to jump out from behind the car. She wanted to ask them WHERE? WHERE DID YOU SEE HER? but Beth didn't do anything. She knew too much about men now; about their needs and their lack of humanity, and how easy it was to lose to their strength and almost fade away.

For weeks after Beth had followed a couple of trails that led her to camps, and herds, and once (much to her shame) herself. It became obvious that tracking Michonne was like trying to track a flying bird. She left no prints. No clues. _Or maybe you're just too dumb to find them_ , Beth often thought to herself. Either way, eventually she had given up. If Michonne didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be - Beth would have more luck being discovered by Michonne than discovering her.

Then later that year during the middle of a hard winter she had heard about a man - a good man - and his son; how they had lost their people and had been traveling just the two of them, looking for any survivors. Beth had to gently talk herself out of knowing in her bones that it was Rick. She couldn't afford to get her hopes up like she did with Michonne. Beth didn't try to track them, but kept her eyes open, willing herself to see the sheriff's hat and the boy who always accompanied it, but she never did.

It was Spring when she saw Tyreese. Beth had spent so long by then hardening her heart. Practicing the word _dead_. Letting go. And when she saw him, all muscle and anger, jamming a shovel through the skull of a walker her stomach clenched with fear. Part of her knew Tyreese was a decent person - could remember his smile and his laughter - but she could remember other things, too. Like being held down. Being touched. And broken. She said nothing. Backed away slowly, praying to God he wouldn't look up at her.

Alone was easier. She missed Maggie and Glenn. Missed Judith. Carol. She even missed Merle sometimes - mostly when thinking about how having a knife for a hand would be, well, handy. Pun not intended. But alone was easier, if you were careful and quiet and smart. You didn't have to lose anyone, and when you were lost, no one was hurt. No one had to put you down. Or bury you. Or mourn you.

Beth had been walking all day. Spring was just starting to turn into summer - her blond hair was sticking against the sweat on her face. She desperately wished for a shower, even a lake would do. Something to wash off the stink and the blood and the grime. She was down to her last bottle of water; gritting her teeth, Beth knew she had to go into whatever town was closest.

Beth fingered the map in her pocket. She only kept them for moments like this. For needing to know, for needing to survive. She pulled it out and looked at it curiously. The next town wouldn't been too far. Maybe a night. She could make it before sunrise, but she wasn't fond of traveling in the dark. She could kill walkers, kill them as easy as anyone else - but she didn't like to. She'd rather trick them, outsmart them, and generally stay out of their path.

As she set up a meager camp, rigging traps to alert her of predators, she couldn't help but to think she missed Daryl too. Almost everything she did was threaded with his phantom touch - he had taught her to hunt, to start fires, to set traps and throw a punch - she remembered how he had laughed when she tucked her thumb in, telling her she would break it that way.

_"Didn't your brother ever teach you to hit before?" he asked._

_"No," Beth said quietly. "To be honest, that was always more Maggie's department."_

_He smiled and she thought, Daryl Dixon is a beautiful man sometimes._

Was.

Daryl Dixon _was_ a beautiful man.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Beth made it to the small town, she had killed three walkers and avoided two. Her palms were dry with blood - some of which was her own from falling. Pushing a stray piece of blonde hair out of her eyes, she assessed the street. There were many empty stores; most with broken windows. Where she once would've tried to imagine what the town had looked like, now she only saw it for what it was: destroyed.

Combing her way carefully through the crashed and abandoned cars, she cursed herself for never learning how to hotwire one. Many of them looked road worthy, but most were missing their keys. Beth made a mental note to go more through each one, hoping to find a set left in the ignition. While she was able to feed herself, and travel on foot, a car would've made things a lot easier.

She approached a small grocery store with a sign hanging in the window. It read: TAKE WHAT YOU NEED. The letters had been painted clumsily in red paint which had been left to run and gave the whole place a rather foreboding feeling -- despite the general kindness in the message. Wrapping her fingers around her knife more tightly Beth gave the door a kick and listened.

There was some movement in the store, but it sounded limited. Best guess was that a walker had been trapped under a fallen shelf and was now clawing at the floor. Breathing out a calming breath she ventured in, stepping over cans of beans and rotted fruit. _Water,_ Beth thought, _just a couple of bottles of water. Please._

A sudden, low whistle stopped Beth in her tracks. It felt as if someone had poured cold water over her, and her skin broke out in goosebumps. Gripping her knife and trying to control her breathing, she heard someone start towards her, the heavy drag of boots.

"Well, what do we have here?" the man asked.

"Whole lot o' nothing," Beth replied in what she hoped was a calm voice. She turned around slowly and looked into a set of cold, gray eyes. "I was hopin' for some water but I guess a grocery store was everyone's first stop, huh?"

"I got some water," the man said. Beth watched in disdain as the man grabbed the front of his pants, palming himself grotesquely. "What you willin' to do for it?"

He was older. Maybe fifty - but hard. Muscled. The kind of face that you knew had seen things - had caused things. Bad things. The pit in her stomach grew, gnawing away at her, telling her to run. But where could she go? He was blocking the exit. _Lie_ , she told herself.

"Oh, that's mighty kind, but my boyfriend is just a store over. I'm sure he found something, he's good like that - ex-army and all."

"He left a pretty thing like you alone? In this world? Doesn't seem to smart to me. In fact, looks like someone could snatch you right up and he'd be none the wiser."

"He knows I'm a lot tougher than that," Beth said, fixing him with a dead smile. She willed her eyes to say, _try it, I dare you, mister_ but she had a feeling it came across like a frightened rabbit or a deer facing headlights. Maggie had always told her that her poker face was laughable, and Beth knew it was true. She could never lie worth a damn.

"Aw, c'mon, sweetheart, I don't want no trouble," the man said, moving closer. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Don't make me," Beth said, a note of pleading crept into her voice.

He was standing in front of her. She felt his hand touch her face, then her hair. Her skin crawled. Her throat tightened. She didn't want this. Hadn't Beth been through enough? Enough of these men. Enough of their hands. Enough of their sickness. Images of a dark room swam in her mind - she remembered the feeling of rope burning into her skin, the low voices, the laughter. Beth bit her tongue so hard it bled.

"It'll be over fast," the man said, leaning into kiss her.

Quickly Beth raised her knife and lodged it in his throat. She had seen the surprise on his face. After all, he had seen the knife - she made no move to hide it. But he underestimated her; thought a girl as small or as pretty as her would never use it. He was right, Beth certainly hadn't wanted to use it, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't. That she hadn't before. Or wouldn't again. People, in this world now, were almost all as bad as the walkers themselves - maybe even worse. The walkers only wanted to eat you; no different than a person to an animal. But people? They wanted to break you, make you suffer, they wanted to use you and hurt you - and sometimes, afterwards, they weren't even kind enough to kill you.

Stepping over his fallen body, she wiped her hands off on her jeans. Distantly she hoped she could find a clothing store - one that would have something left in her size - maybe she could even find some new hiking boots. Leaning down she took the man's bag, emptying it of its contents, taking his water and food and a few other things. Grimacing she pulled the gun out of the front of his pants.

"Man," she sighed, looking at the dead man, "I told you not to make me."


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was smoldering orange on the horizon, casting everything in glow and shadows. Beth wound her thin body in between cars, opening their doors and looking through the windows, checking for keys. Her freshly stolen jeans, found a few stores over, seemed to crack with newness. The street was silent; _at times like this_ , she thought, _it's not hard to imagine I'm the last one left._

After a half hour of checking car after car, she came to an old station wagon. The wood paneling on the side was splattered with blood and the inside didn't fare much better; two corpses left rotting, flesh falling from bones - but all Beth saw were the keys. _Bingo!_ She pocketed the keys and began to remove the bodies, holding her breath, hoping for the best.

"Drop somethin'?"

Beth, who had just pulled the body of a decomposing woman out of the car, stared directly into the sun. At first she couldn't make out who it was; thought maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. She blinked once, then twice, and a third time - just to make sure.

"D-Daryl?" Beth squeaked out, heart leaping into her throat.

"We been lookin' for you, girl," Daryl said.

Beth was amazed at the smile on his face. She had never seen something so brilliant - not even staring directly into the setting sun - which she was. He moved forward, arms stretching out to embrace her and Beth panicked. Quickly she stepped backwards, onto the arm of the dead body, slipping slightly on what used to be a wrist. The sound of snapping bone seemed to echo between the pair.

"Well, you found me," Beth said quietly. "Maggie?"

"She's alright, last I seen her, at least. She was with Glenn. They got out. Just don't know where they took off to."

"Got out?" Beth questioned.

"From Terminus," he responded, shifting the bow on his back.

"What?" Beth asked.

"You ain't seen the signs?" Daryl asked.

"I saw them, alright. Why would she have went to Terminus? Why would you have went to Terminus? It sounded like Woodbury part two."

"I met up with Rick, Carl, and Michonne. They were headed there. I thought you might'a seen the signs."

"Funny, cause I had your voice in my head tellin' me to go the opposite direction.

"Things went bad mighty fast. Maggie and Glenn, they had been there a while. The people who took 'em were holding 'em hostage. They were lurin' people in and then eating 'em. Ain't ever seen anythin' like it, Beth. We got out and everyone just kinda scattered. No one died, far as I know, but we all just kinda lost each other."

"Guess I made the right call then."

"Guess so," Daryl said. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words for it. The way he was watching her made her feel as if he knew all of her dark secrets, all the things she had done and all the the things that had been done to her - and she was itching to get away. Away from the man who had both kept her safe and failed her, away from the man she had wondered about every single night. _Where are you, Daryl Dixon?_ And now she finally had her answer.

"Well," Beth said after a long silence. "Don't let me slow you down."

"What do you mean, girl?" Daryl asked.

"I've been on my own for a long while now. I don't need you to be babysittin' me anymore. It's okay, Daryl, really."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight. What are you, insane?"

"I've been surviving on my own for two years, Daryl. I don't need you."

"Maybe not."

Beth bent for the keys, but Daryl got to them first. He spun them around on his finger; the metal jangling against one another made the beautiful song of freedom she had just been so happy to hear a couple of minutes ago. But now... she couldn't go with him. She didn't want him to know. Not about any of it. And as much as she loved and missed everyone... could she take the way they would look at her after? The way they would want to fix her? She couldn't be fixed. It was done. Beth had to let it be done. It was the only way to survive.

"So, where to?" asked Daryl.

Beth, feeling defeated, simply stepped around him. She heard him follow after her, but ignored the hushed calls of her name. Eventually he would realize it - see all the broken parts of her, the darkness. Would know she was not the same girl. And that there was no saving left to be done here. Just another shell. Eventually he would know.

"Just go, Daryl. Go be the last man standing," she said, not stopping or looking over her shoulder.

"I ain't leaving you," he said, following her.

"We'll see."

"Wherever you go, I'm goin', Beth," Daryl said to her retreating figure. "Damn it, girl, would you stop for a second? Gettin' real tired of talking to the back of your head!"

Suddenly his hand was on her shoulder and Beth had her knife drawn on him before she knew it. She saw the shock and sadness in Daryl's eyes. Colour rushed into her cheeks, making the pale flesh turn almost red. She hated herself in that moment.

"Don't," Beth said. "Just don't touch me, alright?"

Daryl nodded once, stiffly, eyes begging her to explain but said nothing. He raised his hands in front of him, a sign of surrender and said, "So, where are we campin' out?"

"Daryl, just leave me alone."

"I need to make sure you're safe, Beth. I understand if you're pissed at me. I was supposed to keep you safe and I didn't. But just let me get you back to your people. To your sister."

"I'm not going back," Beth said fiercely. "I can't go back."

"Then we won't go back."

"You can," Beth said. "You can still go back. Go find Rick. Michonne. Your people."

"You are my people, Beth."


	5. Chapter 5

_Beth had woken up to the sound of arguing. Her hair was sticky with blood, and when she went to move a piece of it out of her eyes, she found her arms were bound to the chair she was sat in. Her heart kicked up a fuss, telling her to run, but she couldn't run. She was trapped._

_Think, Beth, think._

_There was very little light inside of the room. Beth immediately noticed the window across from her, but someone had draped a sheet over it. By the faded brightness coming in through the cotton, she could tell it was almost night time. How long had she been out? She tugged helplessly at her arms, half-hoping the ropes would just dissolve - or she'd wake up back in the funeral home..._

_The funeral home!_

_Daryl!_

_Her chest tightened, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Beth couldn't imagine he had made it out. She had just been doubling back to help him when everything had went dark. How could she let herself get taken when he needed her? Beth banged her head against the back of the chair in frustration, trying to banish the tars that were threatening to spill; panic and grief were not conducive to escaping. They all had their jobs to do - and Beth's job was to get out and find someone, anyone, from the prison._

_"The girl..." she heard a man say, muffled through the door, then, "sweet..." from another. "...virgin?"_

_Beth grimaced. Her mind chanted for her to get out. Get out and run. Far away. But she was stuck. Bile rose up in her throat. Her daddy had always warned her about men like this, even before the virus spread, and though she didn't want to believe it was true, that people could be so sick and so depraved, she knew they existed. And now it seemed like they had her._

_She tried to quickly go over all the things she had been taught about fighting. Daryl had made sure she knew how to defend herself - at least the basics. Beth guessed he had never thought she'd really need it, with him around. What would Daryl do?_

_Stay alive._

_That's what Daryl would do, Beth thought, he'd stay alive - no matter what._

_Suddenly the door swung open. The light coming in from the open windows in the next room made her blink against the pain. When her vision cleared she saw three men - one with long hair, another balding, and the third wearing a cowboy hat that made her strangely nostalgic for the farm._

_"Looks like sleeping beauty is up," said the balding man, shoving his chubby elbow into the side of the man with the long hair._

_"Easy, Jared," he commented. "Girls don't like 'em too eager."_

_"Ain't like she has a choice in it," said the man in the cowboy hat._

_"Well, honey, you gonna say something, or are you mute? That's gonna take a lot of the fun out of having a pet."_

_"I-I have people looking for me," Beth stuttered, her mouth drying out even more, if possible._

_"Naw, you don't," said Jared. "Mark wouldn't have took you if you did."_

_"That's right," said the man with the longer hair. "We never take the ones from groups. More trouble than they're worth. But our last one, well..."_

_"Plumb wore her out, I'd say," said the cowboy._

_"That's one way to put it, Tommy," said Jared, dumb grin on his face._

_"Listen, I don't want nothin' to happen to you guys. You seem p-plenty nice, I'm sure. You just need to let me go, that's all. If you'd just let me go..." Beth started._

_"Honey, if you can't stop lying we'll find something better for your mouth to do," Mark said with a chilling smile._

_Beth immediately shut up. She curled her lips under her teeth and hoped they would untie her, even for just a second. If she could just run - she was fast - and if they caught her, better a fast death than what they had planned for her._

_"Tell you what, since you think we're plenty nice - we'll even let you choose who you want breaking you in first," said Mark._

_Beth said nothing. She wondered if they would beat her when they found out she wasn't really a virgin. Beth had once had a sex life, though not exactly active, given the circumstances. Mark was staring at her hard, waiting for her to speak. When it became apparent she wouldn't answer he strode across the room and grabbed the back of her hair hard, fingers digging into the tender flesh of her scalp._

_"I said choose, bitch."_

_"J-Jared. Him," she said, jerking her head toward the balding man. He was soft. Older. A beer gut that would've been hard to keep up with the state the world was in now. He would be her best chance for escape. She just needed him to let his guard down._

_"Why they always choose Jared?" Tommy complained._

_"They can't keep their hands off me," he said with a dark smile._

_"They just think you'll be the fastest - probably remind a few of them of their dads."_

_"Is that why they call me Daddy?" he asked, walking forward, unbuckling his belt._

_Mark and Tommy closed and locked the door behind them, leaving Beth alone to face the man that was more monster than any of the walkers that had almost killed her. She dug her nails into the arms of the chair and willed herself to say something, anything._

_"Please don't do it," she whispered._

_"Shut up," he snarled, standing in front of her._

_"Please, mister," Beth said, tears starting to drip down her face._

_"I said shut up, blondie!" Jared shouted as he drew his arm back, slapping her hard and quick across the face._

_He pulled a knife - her knife - and cut her loose. As he made her undress, she told herself to think of Jimmy. His soft, clean hands. They were the ones touching her. But his hands had been clumsy and gentle, and they hadn't made her want to die._


	6. Chapter 6

Beth awoke with a start, the screams long since dead in her throat. She gasped long and sharp, gulping in the night air around her. When she first escaped, she could only trust herself to sleep in the trees - more than once she had greeted the morning with rope tied around her waist and walkers crowded under the branches.

"Y'okay?" Daryl asked.

Beth gasped again, whipping her head around to stare at him. In the night his camp had merged into hers. He had a small fire going, lighting up their faces and casting shadows all around them. Despite his frustration, and flat out anger, Beth would not waver on going it alone. _Free country_ , Daryl had said, and then later, when she couldn't shake him, _Free country_ again.

"What are you doing over here? And I swear, Daryl Dixon, if you say _free country_ one more time..."

"Fire went out," he said, nodding towards the flames.

"Yeah," Beth said. "It was supposed to."

"Could still put it out, if ya want," Daryl drawled.

Beth had her hoodie pulled around her, the gray sleeves clenched over her fists to keep the heat in. Damn him. Her pride wanted to ask him to, but her body had other ideas - like comfort and warmth. She rolled her shoulders, wishing for their knots and tension to vanish. No such luck.

"What's it gonna be, girl?" he asked impatiently, making to get up.

Why did he have to make it so difficult for her to disappear? Beth wondered why he felt so hell bent to try to take care of her - if it was a softness instilled by the group, or guilt, or some fondness for the person she no longer was. Didn't he know how much it would break her heart when he realized she would never be the bird-flippin', house burnin', moonshine drinkin' girl she used to be?

"Whatever," Beth said. She shrugged her shoulders feigning apathy. "Why waste a perfectly good fire, right?"

"Mhm," Daryl hummed. "You hungry, girl?"

"I have my own food, thank you."

"Thought you might want some rabbit," Daryl offered. "Looks like you could use somethin' more than berries."

"That's okay," Beth said. "Never much enjoyed eating anything that reminded me of Thumper anyway."

"Suit yourself," Daryl said, eating a piece of the cooked meat he had been saving for her.

The quiet seemed to stretch between them forever - filled with all the questions he wanted to ask but wouldn't, and all the things she should say to him but couldn't.

"Daryl, we're not doing this."

"Doin' what?"

"Teaming up. Pairing off - whatever you want to call it," she said.

"I call it survivin'," Daryl said while chewing. The toe of his boot was burrowing into the soft ground - she watched the movement of his ankle, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. _What are you doin'?_ she wanted to ask, but kept her mouth shut. "It'd be safer, you know it."

Beth assessed Daryl from across the fire. He looked every bit as strong as she remembered him; maybe even stronger. His arms were heavy with muscle, bunching and rippling with every move he made. Daryl didn't need anyone - of that, Beth was sure. They got swarmed with walkers and he got out, found their group while she... well, Beth tried not to think about it.

She didn't want to think it. Didn't want to imagine Daryl could do the things that had been done to her. But his hands were hard and large, and he had seen so much. It had been so long. How did she know where his head was at anymore? How did she know he wouldn't snap one night? Heck, she seemed to snap every night, but women had a tendency to implode while men... she shook her head, trying to clear the dark thoughts.

"You really need the help that bad?" Beth said challengingly. She was hoping to call his bluff - if he just admitted he didn't need her to survive, and she didn't need him, then they could part with no hard feelings.

"Yup," Daryl said flatly.

"Liar," Beth muttered.

She laid back down, turning away from him. Beth willed her bones to go soft with sleep. Whatever bad dreams may come, at least she knew their end. But this... wanting so bad to go back, wanting so bad to let someone help her, protect her - it made her feel weak with shame and dread. _You're a stupid girl, Beth Greene_ , she told herself. _Everyone is gonna be better off without you. What do you have to give them now? All you were before was their little dose of optimism, and that's been shot to h-e-double-hockey-sticks._

Giving into temptation she turned around to look at Daryl. As the crickets sang around them, she caught his blue eyes, somehow still bright in the darkness. She remembered suddenly being young and swiping a Harlequin novel that described a man's gaze as tumultuous; she could only assume the author had been talkin' about Daryl Dixon.

They looked at each other for a long while. The seconds turned into minutes, and the minutes seemed to bleed into hours. That was the thing about time now, it was all relative. Beth could hear the wind rustling leaves, the fire eating up the wood, and Daryl's eyes so loudly it almost made her head hurt.

"I do need ya, Beth," he whispered gruffly.

"Liar," Beth breathed out softly to herself.

"Is it always like that?"

"Like what?" Beth said.

"The dreams," Daryl said softer than she had ever heard him speak before.

"No," Beth said. When she heard his relieved breath she added, "they used to be a lot worse."

"Beth, what happened to ya?" Daryl said, his voice thick.

"I call it surviving."


	7. Chapter 7

Beth woke up wanting to escape - wanting to close her eyes again; to go forward to some impossible "better" or backwards to her old "before." But the trees tower high above her, and the sky is blue, and everything could be beautiful if it was just a little bit different; if she was just a little bit different - but backwards isn't an option, only forwards. One foot in front of the other - hell, one breath after the other, some days.

Daryl isn't there, but his bag is. Beth doesn't know when or if he slept, but can picture him so easily she wonders if muscle memory includes sight. She imagines him moving through the forest, looking down the nose of his bow - knows that's not right, _the nose_ , but can't find the word for it. Wants to ask him. Some old, familiar part of her seeps back in - hoping for knowledge, for a chance to feel like the honor student she used to be, front of the class scribbling notes furiously.

But more of Beth knows she needs to leave. That this is her chance. She might be easily discovered - God knows she was no expert at covering her tracks - but if she had enough of a head start, maybe. And things could go back to the way they were before; no questions, no concern, no looks of pity. Beth could just disappear. She had done it once before.

Gathering her belongings, she didn't think - simply started walking; whichever way she was facing could be north today. What did it matter? She had enough water to last for a while. Beth couldn't stop remembering herself younger, smaller somehow: _I'm not going to leave you!_

Sorry, Daryl.

She thought of her sister and Glenn. Thought of Rick, Michonne, and Carl. Let Daryl find them again. He needed someone, she knew, to keep his heart from growing hard and gnarled. Before that would've been her job. _There are still good people_. Maybe she needed someone to remind her, but you couldn't count on anyone anymore. Not for anythin'.

Beth lost herself in walking. The air was getting warmer and she stopped to tie her gray hoodie around her waist. The light warmed her arms, her face - it had been a long winter and the heat was welcome. She watched the sun move in the sky slowly; its agonizing crawl worse than a ticking clock. It made her itch with restlessness, for change. But nothing was going to change.

She heard the walker before she saw it. The same lurching steps and sad, hungry moans. Beth pressed her back tightly against the tree and waited for it to pass. Hoped it hadn't seen her. She drew her knife and waited - she was good at waiting, at staying still - at making herself so quiet and tiny she almost vanished.

Morning faded into afternoon. Beth had only stopped to forage for food and then continued going. She could feel herself pushing her chin out in the way her Daddy used to call "mule-stubborn." She didn't know where she was going, or where she'd end up - but she knew she'd be alone. And that was enough. She didn't have to talk about it or explain. She would never have to hear Daryl ask her what happened to her again.

Not wanting to start a fire when the sun began to set, she used the last scraps of remaining light to scuttle up a tree. When Beth was finally settled she noticed she had scratched her wrist right next to the silvery scar from so long ago. _Maybe it would've been better_ , she thought - but what once felt like strength and choice, now would only feel like giving up to her.

"Beth?" she heard Daryl's voice cut through the still night. "Damn it, Beth!"

She quietly drew her legs up onto the branch. He was a few feet behind her - she had to estimate because she didn't trust herself to turn around and look for him. The world always seemed to get a little dizzy when he spoke - something that had not went away with all this time. Beth could hear the desperation in his voice and tried to shut it out.

"C'mon, Beth. You ain't gotta do this. You can't do this to me. Not again, y'hear me?" Daryl said, more to himself than her. "You can't just be gone again. It ain't right, Beth. Not after all this time!"

Beth felt her eyes water. Slowly, for the first time in a long time, the tears spilled down her cheeks. Big, fat crocodile tears. Because more than anything she wanted to go to him. To go with him. To find her sister and everyone else. She wanted to feel safe again. But what was the point? It all just got taken away from you eventually. How much more could she survive? How much more could a person take?

"Beth!" Daryl's voice called from directly under her tree.

Unable to help her surprise at his closeness she made a small, startled sound and gripped the tree for purchase. Suddenly Daryl's head whipped up to look into the branches. She couldn't make out all the features of his face, but saw his shoulders slump in relief, then bunch up with frustration again.

"This how it is, girl?" Daryl asked. "You gon' take off every time I go get us dinner?"

Beth said nothing, wiped at her cheeks, praying he couldn't see that she had been crying. She sniffled a little and shifted around; her movement caused the leaves to whisper like they knew all her secrets. She shrugged her shoulders - a movement she was sure Daryl couldn't make out from his vantage point.

"You comin' down or am I comin' up?"


	8. Chapter 8

It seemed like it had been hours since Beth had climbed down from the tree, but she knew that wasn't possible. They hadn't said much to each other after that. Daryl had asked her if she was hungry. She said no. Daryl asked her if she was cold. She said no. He said he was going to make a fire anyways, and since then they'd just been staring sightlessly into the flames.

The silence stretched on between them like its own infinity. Beth wasn't sure what to say: _Sorry I abandoned you_ or _I wish you wouldn't worry about me_ or _I don't want to be like this_... none of them seemed to suffice. Daryl was sitting across from her, pressing his fingers into his temples, looking years older than this morning. He opened his mouth, as if he was about to talk, and then closed it again. Beth waited, and finally, he spoke.

"You ain't gotta talk about it," he said. "I can't make ya. And even if you did - I'm not your Pa or Maggie - don't know what good I would be."

Beth tilted her head at him in a curious fashion. He looked very upset and she couldn't tell if it was at her or at himself - or just the world. Christ knows she got upset about that often enough. When she thought about all she had lost and all she would never, could never, have... sometimes she wanted to burn it all down - not just a house - but the whole damn world.

"Y'mean it?" she asked softly.

"If that's what it's gonna take, Beth," he said. "I don't know what happened to ya, not exactly. That's your story to tell. It ain't my place to force you or ask ya a bunch of questions. I just can't take ya runnin' off on your own. It ain't right."

"I've been -"

"I know. You've been on your own. That's my fault; let me fix it. I can't do much, but I can do that at least," he said, cutting her off.

She could hear the guilt laced in his voice and felt bad. Beth knew that everyone back at the prison had leaned so hard on Daryl, expecting him to keep them safe, and come through in even the most impossible situations - and usually he had, against all odds. But eventually he'd been bound to lose. And that night... she had just been one of those cases.

"Daryl, no one can keep anyone safe. Not anymore," Beth said. "There was nothin' you could've done. With my hurt ankle and the walkers... I know you were tryin' to look out for me. Neither of us could've guessed..."

"At least... can you tell me... they dead?"

"Are who dead?" she asked sharply.

"The person who took ya," Daryl said, not looking at her; he busied himself with poking the smoldering log with a branch he had found.

"How do you -" she started.

"You wouldn'ta left me," he said. "You ain't the kind."

"Funny thing to say to a girl who just did exactly that."

"People do all kinds of things when they're spooked," Daryl said easily. He looked up at her with a new hardness in his eyes. "They dead, Beth?"

"One of them," she said quietly.

"Motherfucker," Daryl cursed under his breath. "How many were there?"

"What happened to not askin' a bunch of questions?" Beth countered.

"Beth..." he said warningly, as if he were about to scold or lecture her.

"There were three of them," Beth said quietly, "okay? Three men. One is dead. I don't know about the other two. Can you drop it now? Please?"

Beth swore she heard Daryl clench his jaw so hard his molars cracked. From across the fire she could see the clench and unclench of his fist. She drew into herself. Beth could feel the fury radiating off him and wanted to run. To be far away again. When he suddenly stood up, she couldn't help but to flinch.

"Where you goin'?" she asked.

"I'm gon' go kill somethin'," Daryl said and then added, "... to eat."

"Convincing," Beth said with a scoff. "Isn't it a little dark for that?"

"Then I'm gon' go kick the shit out of a walker - what you want me to say, girl?!" he shouted.

"Stop," Beth said, her voice trembling. "I'm sorry."

Immediately Daryl froze. It was amazing watching the fight drain out of him - like watching the Hulk turn back into regular ol' Bruce Banner. Slowly he walked over and crouched down in front of her so she only had to look up a few inches into his eyes.

"Shit, Beth, I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to... y'know. I shouldn't have shouted. I told ya I ain't no good at this sort of thing."

"You're okay, Daryl Dixon," Beth said with a trembling smile.

"Yeah?" he asked. His hand reached out as if to touch a lock of her loose blond hair, but then pulled back at the last minute.

"Yeah."

"Y'hungry?" he asked, running the two words together as if they were one, unable to look directly at her.

For once Beth nodded. Daryl let a small smile cross his face. She thought it must feel nice for him, to finally be able to help her with something. That she was finally letting him help her with something. Beth wasn't even really all that hungry, but for some reason it had seemed inappropriate to say no.

When he opened his pack, Beth was surprised to see granola bars. When he handed one to her she looked at the label and then back to him, eyebrows raised.

"You said you didn't like rabbit all that much," Daryl said.

"So you got me granola bars?" she asked.

"Maybe I just had 'em. You don't know," he said with an easy shrug.

She smiled softly to herself as she watched the man she could only describe as tough struggling to open the wrapper.

So that's where he had went.


	9. Chapter 9

Beth watched as the scenery rushed by; the trees seemed to blur together if she squinted her eyes just right. The night before her and Daryl had decided it would be best to double back to the station wagon - he still had the keys after all. They both acknowledged there was a chance it wouldn't be there, but neither of them could see anyone going to the trouble of hot wiring it.

_Wouldn't be m'first pick_ , Daryl has said to her while he rubbed his hand through the whiskers on his chin. _Ain't seen one that ugly since I was a boy_.

Beth had told him anything that ran and still had its keys was a thing of beauty. He had nodded, humming softly to himself in agreement. She wondered if he missed his motorcycle. Beth remembered watching him ride it, like the machine was an extension of his body - how much younger it made him look, and how much freer. She used to think about asking him if he would take her out on it, but now she was glad it was gone. She couldn't imagine wrapping her arms around him, laying the inside of her thighs against the back of his.

"Y'okay?" Daryl asked her, looking over.

Beth nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. She hated how afraid she was of everything - of touching and being touched. Sometimes she liked to imagine herself with the old prison walls around her, all the barbed wire and check. Safe, she thought for a second, until she remembered how it had fallen, as though the world had breathed too hard on it - the world had breathed too hard on her.

Beth tried to count her blessings - that she was alive, that Daryl was alive (and the last he knew, so was most of the group), that winter was over, and that they now had a station wagon. The windows were open and this road, which could be any road, spread out before her seemingly endless. _It could be enough_ , she told herself, _if this is all I ever get - this moment could be enough._

"Would ya say somethin', girl?" Daryl asked. "It's gon' be a hell of a long ride if we just both sit here sayin' shit all to each other."

"I thought you liked the quiet," Beth said.

"There's a reason they use solitary as punishment," he pointed out. "Quiet is good sometimes - not all the time - and you ain't said a damn word since we took off out the town."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Don't matter to me. Anythin' would do."

"Well, let me think then," Beth muttered.

She looked across the seat to watch him drive. His hands were as sure and capable on the wheel as they were on his bow. Or his motorcycle. Or basically anything Daryl Dixon seemed to touch. His eyes were trained on the road, but she noticed the stiffness in his arms - he could tell she was watching him. She was sure of it. Beth turned her head quickly to look back out the window.

"Okay," Beth said quietly. "Well, when I was younger and winter was over, I used to do this thing..."

"... what thing?" Daryl prompted when she trailed off.

"Well, once the green started coming back, I'd watch the trees. You know, when you can see the start of the buds. I always liked to try to see that moment when it went from buds to leaves. I always wanted to see it. I wanted to notice it, I guess," she said sheepishly.

"You ever did?" Daryl asked.

"No," Beth said. "Every day when Daddy drove me into town I'd watch the trees and wait. And wait. And wait. But it always seemed to happen when I had my head turned. One day it was buds, and the next day, full blown leaves."

Beth turned her head to look back out the window. She had already missed it this year. The trees were in full bloom. They cast big, beautiful patches of shade to rest in when the sun got too hot or you needed to catch your breath. The birds made their homes in them, comforted by the awning the leaves would make for their homes. Suddenly Daryl Dixon laughed, softly, and mostly to himself.

"Why are you laughing?" Beth asked. "You put me on the spot, you can't expect some grand story -"

"It's not that, girl," Daryl said, smirking over at her. "It just sounded like you, is all."

"What do you mean?"

"The noticin' things. You do that a lot. I've seen ya."

"Never noticed you noticing," Beth replied.

"Maybe I'm better at it than you."

"What aren't you better than me at?" Beth asked. "Weapons, hunting, tracking - you name it, Daryl Dixon can do it."

"I ain't good at being alone," he said so quietly she wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.

It was the rare moment Daryl shared his feelings. He was a shell she had just been beginning to crack open before she had been taken. She liked to think he was getting used to having her around, maybe not hating it as much as he liked to pretend. He had almost admitted so that night, right before everything had changed. She hadn't even gotten to taste her own victory.

"You're stronger than you think, Daryl."

"I know I'm strong. I do what I need to," Daryl said, not taking his eyes off the road. "But I ain't never been strong enough to be alone. I followed Merle around as a kid - then I stuck with the group after Merle was gone. I fell in with some bad people after I lost ya, Beth. I ain't proud of it."

"Daryl..." Beth started, not sure what to say.

"I wasn't with 'em long. Found Rick and Carl and Michonne. We had to... it doesn't matter. But, girl, I ain't ever gonna be as strong as you. Alone all this time..."

"Stop," she said softly.

"You've got the kind o'strength... I don't know how to say it right..."

"So don't," Beth insisted.

"Alright," Daryl said, looking as though he was biting the inside of his cheek. Suddenly he pointed a little ways up and announced, "look at that one."

Beth followed his finger to the tree. She immediately saw which one he was talking about. In the middle of the field, standing all alone, was an oak tree. Its leaves were somewhere in between tight buds and blossoming. Suddenly a smile broke out on Beth's face, startling her as much as it seemed to Daryl.

"It's beautiful," Beth said.

"Yeah," Daryl said looking at her. "It's a damn sight, ain't it?"


	10. Chapter 10

They didn't speak much after that; a long tense silence filled the car, but Beth was too tired to notice. She pressed her forehead against the cooling glass of the window, watching the sky turn dark. Neither one of them said anything when the orange light in the dash had flickered on, indicating their gas had went from low to dangerously low. After spending so long fighting tooth and nail for their lives, Beth found that the basic things now went without saying - at least between the two of them.

"Holler if you see anythin'," Daryl said. "I'm hopin' some hick has a cabin up here somewhere."

Beth nodded while images of a bed filled her mind - it had been so long since she felt the comfort of an honest to God mattress. After a few more minutes of driving she was disappointed, but not surprised, when what they came across was less of a cabin and more of a tool shed. Daryl eased the car onto the grass directly next to the building and killed the engine.

They both climbed out of the car, stretching their tired limbs while looking at the shack in front of them. The wood was worn and thrown together shoddily - there were cracks big enough to see in through - but it was standing and didn't look like it was going anywhere anytime soon. The pair seemed to let out a synchronized breath of relief.

"Home sweet home," he drawled.

"Nothing sweet about this place," she said, "but still, better than nothing."

"Almost thought you were gon' tell me it sucks and flip me off for a second there," Daryl said with a smirk.

"Too tired for any of that," Beth said. "I'm just glad it's got walls and a roof. Out here it may as well be a four star hotel."

"That might be takin' it a hair too far," Daryl said. "I'm gon' go check the inside. I'm not really worried about walkers, but wouldn't be shocked to find some possums or racoons in 'ere."

"Oh goody," Beth said. "Dinner."

"The girl learns fast," Daryl said to himself. "I ain't gotta tell you to keep watch?"

"Obviously."

Beth watched the treeline with bleary eyes. She was ready to fall asleep standing up - it was strange, she couldn't remember being so tired before, and today was a rare day of nothingness. Inside she heard some scuttling - the whistle of Daryl's arrow (one, then another). She tried hard not to think about whatever he just killed; even in this world Beth knew herself to be a soft, sopping mess for animals.

On her own she didn't eat much meat. Beth tried not to kill anything. Sometimes she would be lucky enough to stumble across a snare or trap that didn't require much effort on her part. But to actually put down anything that used to be cute and fuzzy - she just didn't have the stomach for it. She supposed everyone was allowed one weakness.

"Bagged us dinner," Daryl said.

"No company?" Beth asked.

"Naw," he responded. "Just you, me, and some possum patties."

"That sounds... well, just shy of disgusting," Beth said with a yawn. "If I was any less hungry, I'd be repulsed."

"Won't think no less of ya," Daryl said easily. "You look dead on yer feet. Why don't you go in and sleep for a stretch?"

"You don't need me to cover you?"

"Don't think so. It's pretty quiet out here, ain't it?" Daryl commented. "I won't go very far, Beth. Just gonna get some firewood and cook up our friends here."

"Okay," Beth relented, knowing she wouldn't be much use in the state she was in. "Just... you know, be careful, okay?"

"Always am, girl," he said. "There's a dresser you can push in front of the door for peace o' mind. I'll keep an eye on ya, though."

"Thank you," Beth said quietly. "Not just for this... for everything. For not leaving me... I know I'm not..."

She could feel the colour rising in her face. Beth didn't know how to explain it to him. Around them the crickets sang and toads croaked - she briefly thought she heard a brook, somewhere, babbling away. When she was younger Beth remembered wishing people could see inside of her, like a strange, knock-off superpower. Now she was glad for the coverage. That she wasn't see-through. That no one could guess just by looking at her how much had hardened and seemed to die.

"Not what?" he prompted when it looked as though she had lost her will to speak.

"I know I'm not... the same," Beth finished, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.

"Hey, look at me, Beth," Daryl commanded. When Beth's gaze met his he continued, "Ain't none of us the same."

Beth had studied Daryl's eyes a lot after they broke out of the prison - she recognized anger in them, sadness, hurt, even occasionally happiness, but something swam in them now that she couldn't name. So often she had thought that Daryl's eyes were his only tell, but they weren't telling her anything tonight, no matter how long she looked into them.

"You are, though," she said. "The same, I mean. Old faithful. Dependable Daryl Dixon."

"Only you would think that, girl," he said with an easy laugh. "Go get some rest, you need it."

"Okay. Wake me up soon."

"Still bossy though," he commented. "Ain't everythin' changed 'bout you."

"Yeah, yeah," she said kicking the top off a dandelion and walking away.

When Beth got to the cabin she looked back over her shoulder to see Daryl standing under the moonlight, his face turned towards the stars. She wanted to say more, always something more, but couldn't think of what or how; instead she let him enjoy the night sky alone, shutting the door quietly behind her.


	11. Chapter 11

Daryl's eyes. Daryl's brows - furrowed, concerned. Daryl's jaw; the muscle clenching and releasing. Daryl's mouth - lips thin - skin chapped. Beth woke up to bits and pieces of his details floating above her face. She had heard him in the darkness of her dream, calling her name like the moon calls the tide, drawing her out to consciousness - back to him.

She did not startle. Her wide blue eyes took in the old wooden walls - their transitory sanctuary from the walkers and the monsters they had made of men. As soon as she had woken up, Daryl removed his rough hands from her shoulders and stared at her uneasily.

"Did I scream?" Beth asked softly.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "Shaved a good five years off me."

"You ought to be used to it by now," Beth responded.

"Some things you ain't never get used to, girl," Daryl said as he dropped down to sit next to her. "Y'want...?"

"To talk about?" Beth asked and hurried to answer her own question, "No. I don't."

"Everybody has 'em," Daryl said. "The bad dreams, I mean. I reckon we all got our fair share of nightmare material."

"It wasn't though," Beth said, wiping her sweating forehead on the bend of her elbow.

"What do you mean?"

"Wasn't a nightmare," Beth said. "It was a memory."

She heard Daryl's knuckles crack as his hands knotted into fists. Beth didn't know why she had said that - knew she should have left him to his assumptions - hell, the reality of rotting corpses making the living into their personal Happy Meals was enough to warrant a few scream-filled night terrors. Why had she went and opened her big mouth?

Maybe part of her still wanted to seem tougher than all of that - _I may not be Michonne or Carol or Maggie, but I don't wake up screaming over somethin' as mundane as walkers anymore_... Beth used to though; and it was hard to admit that part of her missed those days - back when she believed the worst of mankind was a virus, outside of their control or fault. How naive she had been. _How stupid,_ Beth corrected herself silently.

"I don't usually scream anymore," Beth said to fill the heavy silence. "I'm sorry. Did it go on for very long? Should we be worried?"

"Naw - I was just coming in to wake you. Guess it was a good thing. We might get a straggler or two, but I don't think we need to set up guard, or nothin'."

"Good," Beth said absently.

"I was gon' suggest eatin' outside, but we might wanna make this an indoor event, just to be safe."

"You're probably right," Beth said sadly. "Too bad. It was such a nice night."

"Still is, girl," he said. "After all, we're both still alive, ain't we?"

Beth offered him a small smile before he left out the door to grab their dinner. She knew Daryl was trying to cheer her up, but it hadn't worked. How long would she keep ruining things? And not just the little things - but the big things. Would she ever fall in love again? Let a man touch her? Enjoy being kissed? Would she ever get to have a baby of her own - or at least think about having one? Or would she live and die inside her own pale skin like a personal ivory tower? Lonely. Hurt. Sad. Broken.

"Cooked up pretty good, I think," Daryl said as he walked back in, mouth already half full of possum meat.

"Ugh," Beth responded simply. 

"Tastes like chicken," Daryl said wryly.

"That's what you said about the snake," Beth shot back with a grimace.

"And it did."

"No, it tasted like what one would imagine a snake tasted like," Beth muttered to herself. She tentatively took a bite of the meat offered to her and grimace. "Why is it when anyone is about to feed you something weird they tell you it tastes like chicken?"

"Cause chicken's borin'," Daryl said easily.

"Guess so," Beth said. "As truly gross as I find this, thank you."

"Coulda just said thank you," Daryl groused.

"Yeah," Beth agreed with a quirk of her eyebrow, "I could've."

Later, after they had finished their meal and disposed of what was left, Daryl cautiously laid down next to Beth. They were both on their backs, staring at the old ceiling - Beth could almost hear him hoping it didn't leak. Her hands were clammy with anxiety - she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves; their arms were almost touching.

"One time," Daryl started quietly, "Merle dared me to ride my bike up this ramp and over an old, toppled fridge we had in our backyard."

"Oh no," Beth said back.

She pictured a young Daryl - softer, smaller. Beth imagined his eyes filled with gumption, and though she knew it was impossible, conjured an image of his bicycle that looked more Harley Davidson than Walmart plastic. For kicks, she added a red cape on him.

"It's worse than all that," Daryl said. "Damn thing still had training wheels on it. I didn't break nothin'. Couldn't even get the damn bike all the way up the ramp. Just kind of toppled off the side, real smooth like."

Beth laughed softly. The sound of it was unfamiliar to her own ears, but she couldn't keep it in. She heard Daryl chuckle dryly beside her and she tried to compose herself. Still, her shoulders shook with unreleased mirth.

"God, that's the cutest story, Daryl Dixon."

"I'll deny it if you tell anyone," he responded.

"Wouldn't dream of sharing that one," Beth said with a small smile, suddenly feeling tired again. She meant to say goodnight to Daryl but somewhere between thanking him and asking him if he ever owned a red cape, she had dozed off to much sweeter dreams.


	12. Chapter 12

"I never told anyone this," Beth said, "but I'm kind of afraid of horses."

It was their second night at the little shack. Beth had woken up the next day expecting to find Daryl sleeping beside her, but only found an empty space and his gear. She appreciated that he always left his pack - it was his form of a note: _Don't worry, I'll be back soon._ Of course, she would never expect him to leave her, but still, it was the thought that counted.

When Daryl came back to camp he was acting more awkward than usual. He had a difficult time meeting her gaze when he spoke, and Beth couldn't figure out why. Had she done something to make him uncomfortable? Maggie once joked that Beth farted in her sleep, and she bit the inside of her cheek, praying to all that was holy it had just been good natured sisterly ribbing.

Then suddenly Beth remembered Daryl's moment of vulnerability last night. How he had opened up to her and told her the story about his bicycle. Maybe he was embarrassed about it? Daryl probably didn't want her picturing him as a little boy, and noticing how soft and kind he could be under all that gruff and hardness. Maybe, somehow, she could even up the playing field. As they ate their dinner outside around the fire, she finally came up with a story from her ow childhood that hardly anyone knew.

"What?" Daryl responded.

"No one knows that, other than family - which is only Maggie now," Beth said softly. "We lived on a farm, and we had all of these horses; I rode them plenty, don't get me wrong - but I was scared to death of 'em."

"Why?" Daryl asked.

"I mean, I get that horses are supposed to have these beautiful souls and all. Which I totally believe. You just look in most horses eyes and you can see the kindness and intelligence in them. But then... I remember being real little and watching the horses..."

"Did they buck someone?"

"No. It wasn't that," Beth said staring into the flames. "This is going to sound dumb."

"You ain't dumb," Daryl responded.

"Thanks," Beth said quietly. "I guess... it was the first time I had ever seen anything like that. The horses were all muscle and grace. Just to see something so beautiful and wild. It scared me."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure," Beth said, shrugging her shoulders. "You know, like the sun is this amazing thing, but it hurts to stare directly at it. In a way all I wanted to do was be a horse, and then in another way it was scary to know something like that could exist."

"Hmm," Daryl hummed, finally looking directly at her. "Makes sense to me."

"Yeah?" Beth asked.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I've felt like that before."

"When?"

Daryl only shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. Beth wanted to ask him more questions, but didn't want to defeat the whole purpose of telling him the story. Her cheeks still burned with the memory of how she babbled on and on about it. She should've thought through what she meant to say a bit more. But Beth had remembered the ridiculousness of it at the time - a farmer's daughter afraid of horses - and had opened her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Thanks for dinner," Beth said. "Do you think - well, I'm a little rusty with hunting again. Would you mind teaching me again? Like a refresher course? I was really getting a feel for the bow before..."

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I could use the break, girl."

"Shut up," Beth said with smirk. "You know I pull my weight."

"We've all got jobs to do," Daryl echoed the phrase she had said many times.

"Not much to put on the family crest, but it's all we've got."

"Better than the one my family has," Daryl responded.

"Yeah? What's yours?" Beth asked.

"No one remembers - rumor has it my pa sold it for drug money."

"Well, that's unfortunate. I guess you'll have to make your own some day," Beth said with a kind smile. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'm going to turn in. You comin'?"

"Yeah," Daryl said with a nod. "You go ahead in and I'll put the fire out."

Beth closed her eyes really hard when she was in the room, in hopes she could conjure a mattress out of sheer willpower; when she opened her eyes, however, it was the same old floor. Curling up on her side, she threw her hoodie over her like a blanket and yawned into a curled fist. Her eyelids were just starting to get heavy when Daryl walked in, shutting the door behind him, and moving the dresser in front of it.

"You warm enough?" Daryl asked her.

"I could go for a quilt, if you're offering," Beth said.

"Ain't got no quilt," Daryl said. "But I found a cloth tarp today - looks like they were planning on painting this shit-box; it was with a bunch of cans and brushes."

"Seriously?" Beth asked, sitting up.

"Yeah," Daryl said. "I put it in the dresser. You were still asleep."

Daryl opened the top draw and through the sheet at her. It was heavier than she expected, unfortunately it wasn't the cleanest or best smelling. Briefly she thought of her sleeping bag - she had, had to abandon it some months back. Still, holding the sheet to her chest before unfolding it, she felt a huge surge of gratefulness.

"Thank you," Beth said. "This will be great."

"Ain't a big deal," Daryl said. "Ain't like I bought it."

"It'll keep me warm all the same."

"Suppose so," Daryl said, laying down on his back beside her. "Goodnight, girl."

"Goodnight, Daryl Dixon."

When she slept, Beth dreamed that she was back at the farm. There was a horse - black and beautiful. It ran, coat gleaming in the afternoon sun. Beth's legs began to itch with restlessness, just like they had when she was younger. She wanted to run, too. Fast and wild and free. Suddenly, there was a hand on the small of her back pushing her, _Go ahead_ , said Daryl's voice, _I'm right behind you, girl_.


	13. Chapter 13

Beth and Daryl walked slowly down a dirt road, ambling, feet dragging. They decided it would be best to scour the immediate area on foot, leaving the station wagon at their little camp. If they didn't find any source of gas, or any better rides, they would just head back. Stay a couple more nights and rest before they had to find their way into a city.

"If it comes to that, we'll drive the station wagon 'til she dies. We'll have to hoof it the rest of the way," Daryl said.

Beth had nodded in agreement. She hoped they found something - even if it was just gas instead of a fancier car. She always felt better when she was moving, like she was doing something. Going somewhere - she just didn't know where yet. And maybe she'd never get there, but it felt better than sitting on her butt.

Whenever there was too much quiet, or too much time to think, Beth seemed to drown in her own thoughts. The years she spent on her own were exhausting. Every day she pushed herself to her physical limit, and sometimes even further. When she stopped her body shut down quickly and efficiently. She didn't have to remember anything. None of it. She just had to welcome sleep with open arms and know tomorrow she would be going somewhere - anywhere - the direction didn't matter as long as her feet would just keep on moving.

Beth cupped a hand over her eyes and looked over to her companion. Daryl was walking with his hands in his pockets, casual as you please. But Beth knew if danger crossed their paths he would be ready at a moment's notice - calm, precise, deadly. Beth tried not to think about it too much; it was easier to imagine he was as easy-going as he looked, and that there were not muscles tense and coiled under his skin, ready to snap.

"How happy would you be if we found a motorcycle?" Beth asked, mostly to shake herself out of her thoughts.

"Pretty dang happy," Daryl admitted.

"You miss it, huh?"

"Yeah. There was nothin' like it," Daryl said. "Close as you can get to flying nowadays."

Beth stopped to pick up a wrapper and look at it. Lays potato chips - she closed her eyes against the memories. Long summer days, barbeques outside. Cafeterias. How she used to complain of their grease. _Daddy, why didn't get Doritos? You know I love cool ranch!_ Funny, had she known how soon she'd be eating possum, maybe she wouldn't have wanted so much from life and just enjoyed what she had.

"I always wanted to try it," Beth said.

"Hm?" Daryl hummed in question.

"The motorcycle. I've never been on one," Beth said glancing at the trees on the side of the road. "Hey, look, it's a squirrel!"

The wind blew warm against her face, rustling her sticky hair. It was a hot day and she had been sweating enough to prove summer was just a breath away. Daryl moved to grab his bow. Just as he began looking towards where she had pointed, she spoke again.

"Can't we let this one go?" Beth asked. "We already got four."

"You're soft, girl," Daryl muttered, lowering his bow and swinging it back to its original resting spot.

"Not really," Beth said. "We got leftovers as it is - with four squirrels, I bet one of 'em would start to rot before we got around to it. Besides, this one had crazy eyes. I don't want to eat it. Probably has rabies."

Daryl didn't respond but continued walking. Beth began to daydream about a nice cool shower. Flower scented soap - something lilac, or maybe jasmine. She thought of her old vanilla perfume left on her bedside table; probably would've reminded her too much of her mother. Beth chewed on the inside of her lip.

"You shoulda told me," Daryl muttered.

"Huh?" Beth asked.

"That you wanted a go on the bike," Daryl clarified. "You should've told me. I took out most of the kids."

"Geez, thanks," Beth said rolling her eyes.

"I know you ain't a kid, Beth. Trust me, I know," Daryl said. "They were just the only ones that ever asked."

"Always felt like I was buggin' everyone anyways," Beth said with a shrug of her small shoulder. "I tried to pull my weight as much as I could, but there was only so much everyone would let me do."

"Yeah, well, can't blame 'em, Beth," Daryl said. "No one can exactly picture Cinderella going off to stab dead people in the brain."

"Her stepmother and stepsisters emotionally abused her, basically. They forced her to work herself to the bone for them. She lost everything she had and she still endured. Cinderella was tougher than anyone else in that story."

"Guess you're right, Princess," Daryl said dryly. "'Course, I wasn't read too many fairytales as a kid. Just remember she was the one with the blond hair."

"She also had all those birds and mice help make her clothes and get her dressed," Beth responded.

"Explains why you're always ready before me."

"Hey," Beth said, "what is that?"

They both looked up ahead, squinting against the sun. On the side of the road, maybe a mile up, was a car. Beth couldn't tell if it was better or worse than the station wagon; if it would even run - or have any gas - but it was something. After all their walking, it was something.

"Guess we got lucky," Daryl said.

"First time for everythin'."

"We been luckier than most," Daryl said.

"Guess it depends on your definition of luck," Beth said quietly, walking past him, hands shoved into her pockets.

_You're lucky you're pretty,_ a voice said in her head. She clenched her fists. _You're lucky we aren't just going to kill you. You're a lucky, lucky girl._


	14. Chapter 14

_"She tastes like strawberries!" Jared shouted through the shut door._

_Beth curled herself up small against the wall; all thoughts of escape fled her mind and were replaced with a darkness she could not name. Her body was sore. She could feel the bruises blooming beneath her skin. Beth wished for a shower that would be hot enough to burn his touch away._

_"You know that, kid?" he asked, looking down at her as he did his belt back up. "Damndest thing. After all this time, you taste like strawberries."_

_Beth raked her nails frantically against her wrist, as if trying to scratch off the memories; his lips, and teeth, and hands. His reek. His vile. She said nothing. Could not find her voice. She felt like she should cry, but nothing came - just a heavy, sick sadness._

_"You were fine, sugar," he said. "Don't look so heartbroken. I was good to you, wasn't I? I know we got off to a rough start, but I didn't hurt you - not really."_

_She broke her gaze away from his. Imagine the farm, she told herself. Maggie. Pa. But her past turned to pictures left in the sun too long. The details faded away into white. Nothing left. There was nothing left. Beth began to shake, her bones rattling around like spare change in a pocket. Is this what happened to those who were left - for those who chose to live in this world?_

_"Hey," Jared said, crouching down in front of her and pulling her hair at the back of her neck. Having no choice, she looked into his face. "You ain't got no idea what's waiting for you, sugar. I once saw Mark cut off a girl's hand for scratching him. And Tommy - well, you ever seen Deliverance?"_

_Beth said nothing. He pulled on her hair harder, showing his displeasure. She shook her head no - Daddy had never wanted them to watch violent movies._

_"Well, it's one of his favorite movies. There's this scene - it's so funny - where this guy is getting it up the ass, and the dude forcing it on him makes him squeal like a pig. You know how to squeal, girlie? You ever been near a pig? - I asked you a question."_

_"I-I-I..." Beth started, voice sticking on the sides of her throat, "I grew up - I lived on-on-on a farm."_

_"Oh, Tommy will like that," Jared said, gently moving a piece of hair out of her eyes. "If you play your cards right, we'll keep you around a while. You could be our new pet."_

_Beth swallowed as he stood up, towering over her. Jared picked up his stained t-shirt from the table and put it on over his head. He put the knife back in his pocket. He seemed to be waiting for something, but Beth didn't know what. Hadn't he done enough?_

_"Say thank you, blondie," he commanded. "You ain't gonna get far without manners."_

_"T-th-thank you," Beth stuttered out. She squeezed her eyes tight against the burn behind them, and when she opened them he was at the door._

_"Tommy'll be in later, probably. Mark likes his girls cleaned up, so Tommy will bring you something to wash off with when he's done."_

_When he exited Beth collapsed into herself. The tears that had long been absented rushed forward. She sobbed hard, long and jagged, unable to catch her breath. She wanted to stop - each gasping cough seemed to rip straight from her core and made her want to throw up. Beth felt herself being shaken and looked up swiftly -_

"God damn it, Beth! Snap outta it, girl!" Daryl shouted, shaking her shoulder.

Beth felt herself snap back into consciousness with a start; she gasped, wincing at the soreness in her throat. She had woken up crying, her face felt wet and red. Daryl moved away from her as she wiped her cheeks with the backs of her shaking hands.

"Was I screaming again?" Beth asked.

"You were doin' a hell of a lot more than that!" Daryl snapped. "Screamin', crying'... talkin'."

"Wh-what did I say?" Beth asked, part of her not wanting know.

" _Jared_ ," Daryl hissed out between his teeth. " _Thank you_. You were beggin' for him to stop. God damn it, Beth."

"It... Daryl, it was just a dream. It's okay," Beth tried to assure him.

Suddenly Daryl pulled their new ride over to the side of the road. They had been driving most of the night after he had hotwired it. Beth must have fallen asleep. He ripped the door open and stumbled out onto the road. He kicked a tire, hands fisted tight at his sides - just begging for something - someone - to swing at. His anger was a tangible thing; it burned hot and alive.

"Just a dream, Beth?" he shouted. "You think I'm a God damn idiot? They touched you, didn't they? DIDN'T THEY?"

"I don't - I don't want to talk about it," Beth shouted back. "You said I didn't have to talk about it!"

"Well you gotta, Beth! You gotta fuckin' tell me! I listened to you... God, Beth... where the fuck did they take you?"

"I don't remember," Beth lied. "I don't know."

"Well which is it - do you not remember or do you not know?"

"What's it matter?" Beth demanded.

"Cause I'm going back. I'm gonna fucking trail them til I either find their corpses or turn them into corpses!" he punched the car with such force the door dented.

"Stop it!" Beth shouted. "You're scaring me, Daryl!"

"Jared... who are the other two? You said there were three - who are the other two? Who died? Beth - where were you?" he shot his questions at her in such a rapid fire that she swore her head started swimming.

"I'm not tellin' you anything, Daryl Dixon!" Beth screamed at him. "And I'm sure as hell not gettin' back into that car with a madman."

Beth stormed back over to the car and pulled out her bag. She slung the pack over her shoulder and began marching straight past him down the middle of the road. Beth heard him cussing behind her but didn't stop. Her body was still shaking; she gripped her hands tight to the straps of her bag to steady them.

"Beth! Get back here!" Daryl demanded. "I'm getting awfully tired of chasin' after you!"

"Then don't!" she shouted back without turning. "You were the one that basically forced me to go with you. Well, guess what - you're free! So go!"

"Damn it, Beth!" he said as he ran after her. "Would you stop for a second? Jesus!"

"No, I will not!" Beth said. "This is exactly why I was better off on my own. Listen, I don't need someone to rescue me - maybe I did then- but I don't now. It's over. It's too late. The villains won, okay? The story is over. And just because we were forced to co-exist before all this happened doesn't mean you're responsible for me - or that I'm responsible for you! Okay?"

"Beth -" Daryl started.

"No! Okay. I know you don't like being alone, so don't be alone. Go find someone else. I'm done with this, Daryl. Done with you. Done with this whole damned world."

"Would you -" he started and she spun around on him.

"You wanna know their names so bad? Fine. There was Jared, Tommy, and Mark. That help? You know exactly where they are now? Do you?" Beth asked. "We drove 'til it was morning. We went north. There was a cabin in the woods. I'm not sure exactly where. Some small piece of shit town, just like every other small piece of shit town, okay?"

"Stop," Daryl said quietly, as if all the anger had drained from him.

"Bet you heard a lot of that in the car, right? _Stop. No. Please_. I was pathetic, wasn't I? Always crying and whining - begging for my life, as if it would be worth anything when they were done with me. Well, I'm not that girl anymore - God, I'm not anything! Don't you get that, Daryl Dixon? I'm nothing."


	15. Chapter 15

Daryl caught Beth by the backs of her shoulders and turned her around to face him. She tried to swat his hands away, but the fingers dug in uncomfortably. Beth attempted to unstick her lungs, force them to breathe, but the anger in his eyes was stunning. _How did anyone ever look directly at Daryl Dixon?_

"Don't you fuckin' say that," he snarled. He took his one hand off her to shove his finger in her face. "Don't you ever say that."

For a loaded second the two of them stood in the middle of the abandoned road. As the sun beat down around them, both of their chests were heaving with anger and exertion. Beth could feel every beat of her heart; it echoed loud in her ear, dragging on endlessly.

"What the matter, Daryl?" she spat back at him. "Too close to the truth for comfort?"

"You ain't nothin'. They didn't change you. No one can change you, Beth, not really."

"They sure as hell did change me!" Beth said, placing her hands on his chest and shoving him a step back. "Look at me! There's nothing left to recognize."

"Damn it, girl, we don't always have to be who we were to be who we are!"

"Oh, that's clever. Where'd you get that? A fortune cookie?" Beth snapped, rolling her eyes.

"I look like the type who used to order Chinese take-out?" Daryl asked. He didn't wait for an answer, but plowed ahead, his fist still clenched at his sides. "You can't just take off again, Beth. I can't let you keep going on your own."

"Well, you don't have a choice, Daryl," Beth shot back. "I don't need anyone to look out for me. Don't you get that? All that's out there for me is death, everything else has happened. I'm invincible, Daryl. Did you know that? - that this is what invincible would look like? I can finally survive in this world, too bad it's not worth a damn!"

"So you're just gonna check out again, huh?" Daryl said with a humorless laugh.

Beth's first instinct was to draw in a sharp, offended breath, but she didn't - instead she pushed her hair back off her shoulder. A bird flew above them, calling out, and Beth tilted her head towards the sky. It was blue - bright and endless - in every direction.

"No. I'm not going to check out - I'm not going to go curl up somewhere and die, if that's what you mean. Don't get me wrong, I thought about it - dreamed about it - hell, I even planned it. But I get it now - that there's no place but here - no bright light, no heaven. There's just this sick shell of what the world used to be; and I'm here because I'm here, and I won't be here soon enough. So who cares?"

"Who cares?" Daryl asked in disbelief. "Pick a person, any person - girl, everyone cares about you! Maggie. Glenn. Rick. Carl. Michonne -"

"Stop it, Dar -" Beth started only to be cut off almost immediately by Daryl.

"You stop it! Carol. Tyresse. Sasha - do I need to keep going?"

"They wouldn't want me around. Not after... I'm not the person they used to care about."

It hurt Beth to even think about. She could see Maggie's eyes filling with darkness and pain - reminding her of the Governor, but worse. Glenn wouldn't know what to say to her, would be careful not to touch her, would hate himself for not protecting someone Maggie loved. Rick and Carl would try to show her that good things still existed, just in different ways - Rick would teach her things she already knew about farming, and Carl would let her read his comic books. Carol would run her until no one could ever attack Beth again. But she didn't want any of that - she just wanted to disappear.

"What about me, Beth?" Daryl asked, his face closer to hers than she knew what to do with.

"What do you mean?"

"I cared about you then; and here you are now, swearin' you're different, and I've done nothin' but fight tooth and nail to keep you 'round. You sayin' I don't give a shit about you? Or do I just not matter at all?"

Beth was close enough to him that she could see the clench and unclench of his jaw. The angry tick of muscle. His skin was dirty and tanned, in the way everyone became dirty and tanned. Beth reached out her shaking hand to touch his cheek gently; first she cupped it, then trailed her fingers softly down the skin until her hand fell away.

"Of course you matter, Daryl," Beth said. "I wouldn't have gotten out alive at all if it wasn't for you. The whole time, I just tried to do what I thought you would do."

"Beth..."

"I took a lot," Beth said quietly. "I had to take a lot. I had to wait, and when the moment came, I got out. I disappeared; don't think you could've even found me."

"I know. I never stopped lookin' for you," Daryl admitted, taking a small step back. "To think with all my skill in tracking, I found you just wanderin' around."

"I had just killed a man."

Daryl shrugged in a way the conveyed quite eloquently _So what? Shit happens._ Beth looked away to the side, eyeing the trees, hoping for a walker to break their lull of silence. It was a dangerous thing to hope for, but was it more dangerous than opening her mouth? She couldn't be sure.

"I don't..." Beth started, stalled, and started again, "I don't want to talk about what happened. I don't even want to think about it. You don't need to know - no one needs to know. It's done and over with, and I'm doing my best, okay, Daryl? I'm doing what I can, and it might not be enough and it's probably not what's right - I wasn't taught how... how to feel like this... but I'm..."

Beth felt tears well up in her eyes. She blinked hard, wishing them away. Daryl's gaze burned her skin, and no matter how much he looked, she couldn't bring herself to face him. She saw some sort of movement out of the corner of her eye and held her breath. What was he doing?

"Beth, look at me," Daryl commanded.

When Beth finally managed to drag her gaze to him, she found him standing in front of her shirtless. She blinked, eyes gone wide like an owl's in the night. His body looked hard and dangerous, tightly coiled, ready to snap - like always. She chewed on the inside of her lip.

"What?" Beth asked.

Silently Daryl turned around and Beth's hand flew to her mouth. Scars. Long, jagged scars. Scars on top of faded scars. His back was a monument to both his pain and endurance. Beth remembered hugging his back before, cheek pressed against the sharp of his shoulder blade, and it made her heart ache. Then, just as quickly as he took it off, he was putting his shirt back on and turning back towards her.

"We all got our own hurts, Beth; some of them are just bigger than others."

"Why?" Beth asked. "Why did you... why did you show me that?"

"Because I trust ya, Beth. Because I know you would never think less of me, or stop bein' my friend because of it."

"Oh, I get it. You did it so I would feel obligated to spill all my deep, dark secrets to you."

"Naw," Daryl said, shaking his head, not looking at her, "I did it so you wouldn't feel so alone with all them deep, dark secrets. You ain't alone, girl. You get it?"

"But I want to be alone!" Beth cried. "It was easier alone!"

"Easier ain't always better, Beth," Daryl said.

"I just... I don't get what your end game is here," she said frustrated. "You know I don't want to go back to Maggie - you know I don't want to find any of them. I've told you that and I mean it. You know that I mean it, right?"

"No end game," Daryl said, holding his hands out to the sides, palms open towards her. "Just me and you, Beth."

"Why?" Beth asked.

"You ain't the worst company," he said. "And if you'd stop taking off every other day, you'd be damn near perfect. Now can we, please, get the fuck back in the car already?"

"I don't want to talk about what happened to me. I don't want you to freak out every time I have a bad dream, or say something without thinking - and we definitely aren't going to go looking for anyone... that includes the people who took me. Okay?"

"Okay - but what if we just run into them?" Daryl asked. "Then can I kill them?"

"No," Beth said flatly.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because they would be my kill, Daryl, and it would be impolite to take that away from a lady."

He laughed and placed his hand on her back. The width of his palm compared to her shoulder blade was amazing. For a moment, she was so startled by the size and warmth of it all, that she forgot to panic or push him off. She leaned into his touch for a second - for a fraction of a second - for a fraction of a fraction, and then sped up a few steps ahead of him.

"Who did that to you?" Beth asked, suddenly serious. "Your back, I mean."

"My piece of shit father," Daryl responded.

"But... you would've been just a boy."

"Didn't seem to matter," Daryl said struggling to sound casual. "I went through some tough shit, Beth. Maybe it touches yours, maybe it doesn't - but I get it... at least some of it. For a long time I let this... the beatings and the things I did to forget the beatings... be all I was, but..."

"You're more than that."

"I was always more than that - sometimes it just takes the world ending to figure it out," Daryl responded.

"Well," Beth said, opening her car door, "I don't think we can afford another global disaster at this rate... maybe you gotta keep on reminding me sometimes."


	16. Chapter 16

The amount of gas in their new car put the station wagon to shame. They drove well into the next day, Beth at the wheel as Daryl slept in the passenger seat. After the first couple of hours of driving, Beth's arms ached with tension, the slender muscles straining with anxiety. She had never been a big fan of driving, and even taking away all the other cars on the road, she still felt as though she was about to crash into something or kill someone; thankfully that wasn't the case, and as the morning light became an afternoon glow, she pulled over to the side of the road.

"Daryl," she said loudly. "Daryl, wake up!"

"Mrph," Daryl muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"This is the first decent place I saw," Beth said, pointing past his window and at an old brick house, set back in a field.

"I thought I said to stop at the first sign of anything with walls and a roof," Daryl groused.

"To be honest, I took that as more of a suggestion. Besides, I don't think anyone could blame me for wanting to find a place that may have a bed. Did you really want to spend another night sleeping on the floor?"

"Floor, ground, bed - don't make no difference to me," Daryl said, getting out of the car to stretch his legs.

"Right," Beth said skeptically. "Let's get our stuff and check it out."

Daryl followed her lead, grabbing his bow from the backseat, and walking a few steps behind her. When they got to the old wooden door, Beth knocked. For a minute the familiar gesture knocked her with a strange sense of nostalgia - she wondered who had lived here - who would've answered the door before the world had gone to hell.

There was no movement to be heard inside, so they walked around the building, checking the windows and walls for any breaks or points of entry. When all seemed pretty much secure, they went back to the door. Daryl angled himself in front of her as they walked into the house. There was the deafening sound of nothing - no people, no walkers, no animals scurrying about.

They went room by room in silence, checking it out until it was apparent that all was clear. Beth felt a gnawing pit in her stomach, reminding her of the funeral home - the place she once thought would be a temporary sanctuary for them. She dug her nails into her palms, trying not to panic.

"We stick together, right?" Beth asked.

Daryl, who was examining a stocked bookshelf in the living room, looked back at her and nodded warily at the thin tone in her voice. She was thankful he didn't ask her what she was thinking - though he probably knew - maybe he was having the same feeling himself. Or maybe he just didn't want to deal with her crying again.

"So," Beth said, trying for a lighter tone, "about that bed..."

"Go ahead," he said, "I ain't never kicked a girl outta bed before."

Beth, so startled at what he had said, started to laugh. Daryl looked at her confused, then suddenly his face began to turn red with embarrassment. He quickly turned back to the bookshelf, but not before Beth could stop herself from teasing him a little.

"Why, Daryl Dixon, I never..."

"That ain't what I meant, and you know it," Daryl shot back, not looking at her.

"Only joking," Beth assured him. "You sure you'll be okay down here?"

"Sure. It's got a couch - basically a bed with a back."

"That's one way of looking at it," Beth said with a laugh. "Anyways, I'm tired. I think I'm gonna head up and try to get some sleep."

"You not hungry?" Daryl asked.

"I know I should be, but... not really," Beth finished lamely.

"Well, I saw some stuff in the kitchen if you wake up and want somethin'."

"Thanks. Goodnight," Beth said softly.

"Night."

She left him looking at books, and went up to the only bedroom. It was a nice size - not too small, but cozy. In a way, it reminded her of her old room. The dresser had pictures of an older man and woman; they looked happy. Beth wondered if they had lived here or only visited on vacations away from the city.

The bed was made; the comforter was white and thick. She hadn't seen anything as beautiful in such a long time. Barely noticing the dust that flew up around her head when she flopped down onto the pillows; she snuggled her face in, trying to relax. _Nothing bad is going to happen_ , Beth told herself. _And if it does, you can handle it. You're fine. You're fine. You're fine._

Still, her palms felt clammy and her heart was skipping beats. The quiet in this place was like the quiet in the funeral home. It had lured her in, made her think she could stay - they could stay. Her and Daryl. And they could live, and be happy, and somehow everyone would find them. _What a crock_ , Beth thought to herself. _Had I really been that stupid?_

In about an hour Beth was no closer to sleep than she had been when she laid down. Suddenly, she heard quiet footsteps in the hall. They walked closer, then hesitated. She heard the shuffle of feet and sat up straight, gripping the blankets to her chest as if they offered any protection.

"You awake, Beth?" Daryl asked quietly from the other side of the shut door.

"Yeah," Beth breathed out. "Come in."

"I thought you were tired," he said.

"Though I was, too," she grumbled. "What's up?"

"Found something I thought you might want," Daryl said as he pulled out a book from behind his back. "It's, uh, it's a journal. Whoever was using it only filled out a couple o' pages. I just ripped 'em out."

He set the notebook on the foot of the bed; it had a dark black leather cover. It looked soft and supple and made Beth want to touch it. She clenched her fists tightly and looked up at him. He had an almost... proud expression on his face when he presented her with a pen he had found.

"Thank you," she said. "I don't really keep a diary anymore... but I'm sure we can use it for something."

"Naw, that's yours," he countered. "Don't be so quick on givin' it up. Anyway, I'm gonna go back downstairs. I'll be awake for a while since you let me sleep... so don't be worryin', alright?"

"Alright," Beth said with a small smile. She hated to admit it, but she did already feel safer knowing he would be awake.

After Daryl had left, wishing her a goodnight for the second time, Beth leaned over and picked up the journal. The binding was beautiful. She turned it over in her palms, considering it; she knew she didn't want to use it for its intended purpose, but she also didn't want to hurt his feelings. She flipped the cover open and next to the jagged edges of the ripped out pages was Daryl's scratchy writing:

_Day one: I'm not alone anymore._


	17. Chapter 17

_Day two: I never dream about M. It's as if what happened with him is so horrific I can't even recreate it without focus or will - neither of which I'll lend my memories. Let that cabin burn. Let T. & J. burn. Let M. burn and turn to ash..._

Beth had been staring at the journal page for so long the lines started to blur. She recognized the loopy, feminine script as her own, but had little recollection of writing it. She shut the cover and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was hard for Beth not to focus on how dark and shadowy her mind felt, as if dark creatures were snapping at her synapses, but she tried.

When Beth finally gathered enough courage to face the day, she did not expect to find Daryl sprawled across the couch. Usually he was up before she was - his arms full of game, face hot and sweaty. And while his face was both hot and sweaty, his eyes were looking unseeingly up to the ceiling.

"Daryl?" Beth asked, leaning slightly over him to look at his face.

"Yeah?" he asked back, voice rough.

"You feelin' okay? You don't look too good," she said, resisting the urge to press her hand against his forehead. It was a gesture that was so purely her mother it made her wrists ache with the echo of family.

"Think I caught something," he said. "I'll be fine though."

"I know you will be," she said.

"Then why you sound so worried, girl?"

"I'm not," Beth said, grabbing a blanket off the back of a highback chair. "You want this?"

"Yeah," Daryl said moving to get up until Beth stopped him.

"What are you thinking, Daryl Dixon? You lay down right now," Beth ordered.

When he was settled back into the couch she draped the blanket over him. Part of her wanted to tucked the edges into him, so he was wrapped up tight, but wasn't sure how he would take too much fussing. Instead she stood awkwardly and wiped her hands on the front of her jeans.

"I think I saw some soup in the kitchen. Canned soup should still be good, shouldn't it?" she asked, not stopping for his answer, "I think it would be. I'll go heat some up. Lucky you taught me how to start a fire, huh?"

"No one likes cold soup," Daryl muttered, rolling onto his side.

"Well, you know, gazpacho," Beth said.

"Gesundheit," Daryl said dryly.

"Hilarious," Beth replied. "You know, if you keep it up I'm not going to buy that you're sick at all."

"I am sick," he said sullenly.

"Sure, wise guy."

Without warning he grabbed her hand - immediately she noticed how clammy it was in comparison to hers. He moved it to his head, pressing her skin against his fevered forehead. There was no denying that he was running a fever, not that she had ever really doubted it. Beth felt sympathy for him, knowing how much Daryl hated not being able to be out and make use of himself.

Crouching down in front of him, Beth drew back her hand from his face. The closer she examined him, the sicker he actually looked. His eyes were cloudy, face pale, lips dry and cracked. She felt anxiety chew at her stomach but battled it down.

"Good thing Carol isn't here," Daryl said more to himself than her.

"Why?" Beth asked.

"Because she would've set me on fire by now."

"What?" Beth exclaimed. "That was Carol?"

"Rick told me, back at the prison," Daryl confirmed. "I miss Carol."

"I do, too," Beth admitted.

"She was my friend," Daryl said, still sounding more as if he were talking to himself.

"Yes, she loved you a lot," Beth murmured.

"She loved you a lot, too," Daryl said, "she always thought you were stronger than everyone gave you credit for. But we all loved you."

"We all loved you, too," she said. "Are you going to be okay while I go get you some water and soup?"

"Mhmm," he hummed, dozing off.

Beth gave him one last look before turning off towards the kitchen. They had already looked through the cupboards when they arrived, so she knew pretty much where everything was. She pulled out an old can of chicken noodle and sent a silent thank you to the couple who had lived here before.

Walking out the door off the kitchen, Beth looked up at the sky. It was an overcast day - the clouds held a promise of long, hard rain. Scurrying quickly, she made her way to the tree-line where a small forest began to start gathering firewood. She had an armful, held against her chest, when she heard a twig snap.

Beth froze.

She waited for a moment, than a moment longer. Her first reaction was walkers - a herd maybe - knowing her luck. Her whole body stiffened until the muscles ached, but nothing came. The silence fell heavy around her. _Maybe it was a squirrel_ , she told herself. _Daryl will be happy if there's squirrels._

Beth turned her back to the trees, looking out towards the house. She couldn't help but to remember Daryl's words: _we all loved you_. She stood, thinking about every last person until she found herself back at the archer. She was hit with a memory of him staring at her from across the table in the funeral parlor, his eyes telling her probably more than he wanted her to know. It seemed like lifetimes ago, and the knowledge she had gleaned in that moment was not anything she could use now. Not after... 

Suddenly she felt someone knock her to her feet. Beth fell, tumbling on top of the firewood, smashing her knee roughly into the hard ground. She grimaced, wondering if she had broken something, when she was hit on the back of the head. Dazed and aching, she looked up into a familiar face - one that made her stomach drop sickly.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't the one who got away," Mark sneered, looking down at her. Before Beth could scramble for her knife, someone was behind her, holding her arms. "You remember Tommy."

"Let me go," Beth demanded, trying not to cry. "My friend will be looking for me."

"Ain't no one gonna find you this time," Tommy said. "Right, Mark?"

"No one found her last time, moron," Mark replied lightly. "Unless you count the walkers, but I guess you made it through that, huh?"

"And I'll make it through this," Beth hissed, still in pain.

"Tommy here is going to see to it that you don't," Mark said as Beth felt the unmistakable press of a gun against her temple. "But first we wanna say goodbye to you real proper like. We're gonna take you with us, and if you're real good and don't scream, we'll even let your friend live."

Beth snapped her mouth shut. Every fiber of her being ached to call for Daryl - but he was weak with fever, and probably not even conscious. She clenched her jaw so hard her molars panged. Tommy helped her up roughly, sending her skin crawling in ways that were far too familiar. She cast one last look towards the house. _At least he'll know I cared this time_ , she thought. _Because we all loved you, too, Daryl Dixon - even me._


End file.
